


Your Place

by shittershutter



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Deepthroating, Leather Kink, M/M, Past Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 20:55:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15693204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shittershutter/pseuds/shittershutter
Summary: "Sit the fuck down, boy," he grumbles when Juice brushes against his back on his way in or out the room, physically crashing with his fragile zen.Juice sits the fuck down alright, just like he has been told and when his bones hit the floor Chibs swings around because by the sound of it he slips and falls and what he expects to see is far more traumatic and far less confusing than the man on his haunches in an almost meditative pose with hands in his lap.





	Your Place

**Author's Note:**

> * Unbetad. Sorry.

Chibs comes home in the early hours of Tuesday -- and granted, it can't still be considered Monday but he's almost on time and it has to count for something -- but Juice is twitchy about it still. 

By the fog in his eyes, Chibs can see he took his pills right on schedule but by the dark circles around his eyes and the fine tremor in his fingers he can tell they didn't work well enough to knock him out and make him sleep through the worry. 

Chibs' little dirty gun disposal trip has a few logistical hiccups along the way but in the end, the weapon is out of their territory. Then he and Tig sit in the bushes down the road and watch the black sky turning pink near the horizon, reminiscing about their outlaw years for no reason at all except deep in their old dry hearts they secretly miss the rush.

He comes home, washes the soles of his boots and pours warm soapy water into the bowl to take his leather gloves off and let them soak. There is no urgency to the ritual but there is the necessity. One thing Chibs has learned that Teller family hasn't is that when you bring one speck of dirt home and leave it, eventually it'll spread until you're under. 

Juice is pacing behind him, disappearing into the darkness of the bedroom and emerging back into the light, to work the nervousness off. He tries to make it look casual like he's half asleep and he just waits for the other man to come to bed but there is an adrenaline buzz Chibs can feel that radiates off him in waves and will take hours to wear off. 

He's pissed at himself most of all for missing Juice's call -- two words would be enough -- but he's fucking old and grey and he can't be alert about all the things all the time, so... 

"Sit the fuck down, boy," he grumbles when Juice brushes against his back on his way in or out the room, physically crashing with his fragile zen.

Juice sits the fuck down alright, just like he has been told and when his bones hit the floor Chibs swings around because by the sound of it he slips and falls and what he expects to see is far more traumatic and far less confusing than the man on his haunches in an almost meditative pose with hands in his lap. 

"Can you..." Juice sounds embarrassed. He stares at Chibs' hands in a way that makes the man unsure whether he is just spacing out as he does when his pills don't agree with him or when he gets hit between the eyes by an ill-timed prison joke. Or if there is a purpose to his stare as it fixates on the gloves. 

"Can you..." he tries again like a burned out engine going for the final desperate stretch on the road. The rest won't form; by the look of it, all the blood has gone to the man's head coloring his ears bright red and meticulously spreading through the planes of his face until the whites of his wide-open eyes are all that remains untouched. 

He looks up at Chibs in desperation for him to get it, to put the words in his mouth. And Chibs is not the brightest but he is attentive, good at observing things over the long periods of time. 

There is a dynamic between them from the moment they meet he's aware of. If he tells Juice to do something, if he times it right and says it with the right amount of authority, Juice will just do it. And occasionally will get hard in the process. 

He's aware of it enough not to misuse it and he himself doesn't really get off on that power, doesn't want to have it over someone he loves. 

But it's there, unavoidable and real. Just like there are gloves on his hands that are the symbol of the dark deeds he's into, the side of his life Juice is no longer a part of to everyone's benefit. 

Juice is not allowed around guns or the drugs he has no prescription for. He doesn't ride anymore by his own choice -- Chibs would occasionally clean and leave his bike uncovered in hopes the instinct, the rush would take over but the man just covers it back up and goes for the car every time. 

Doesn't mean he doesn't miss the drive, the metallic taste and the darkness of it. 

Chibs comes closer, stares at his gloved palm -- it feels wrong to touch Juice with what was rubbed against the barrel of a gun mere hours ago -- but he has a feeling this is exactly what Juice wants, the dirt of it. 

He presses his open hand to the man's face and the whine comes out, high, helpless, as he nuzzles against it and his heart pounds so hard his t-shirt moves under the vibration.

"Good boy," Chibs whispers delivering the final blow to Juice's shaky composure. It all falls apart after that. 

Now Juice's ability to speak has gone to shit for good and he'll have to assume things and pray to god, the saints and the martyrs of the world he's not wrong while trying to keep his bollocks from exploding because he has the hottest boy on his knees in front of him looking up at him like he's a deity himself while simultaneously breathing right into his fly until it feels like it's going to melt. 

They still _boy _Juice around while he's insistently pushing forty and sometimes when he's tired he is that, with the few contrasting silver hairs running through the sea of black, with the crow feet and the darkest, deepest circles under his eyes. When he's in pain he looks no older than sixteen with the eyes so big and so sad they look artificially drawn on his face like his trauma conserved and locked him in space and time.__

__Now he looks like he is somewhere in between those two extremes and god fucking help him, it's the hottest thing._ _

__Chibs pushes the leather and the cotton down his thighs grabs Juice by the back of the head and pushes him forward. There is no resistance as he slides into the mouth and onto the tongue. The vibration that runs through is contagious -- Chibs can feel it in his hand as he brings it under the man's jaw to help him with the rhythm._ _

__Juice gasps and pulls off, coughing, leaning on his hands and resting his forehead against the man's belly. "Baby, I'm gonna come," he croaks, shaking his head._ _

__"No, you won't," Chibs snorts. He fancies himself hot and all, especially when he gets drunk enough to study himself in the mirror and admire the dick that has made dozens happy, saggy sack and all, but he's definitely not hot enough to make the younger man come by touching his head alone with his dick still in his pants._ _

__"You won't, Juicy," he repeats. "Now breathe and open your fucking mouth."_ _

__He doesn't go deep to last longer but pushing through the tight lips and the sneaky tongue is frying his brain enough and one of them has to be mentally present, at least in some capacity. He compliments himself on doing a half-decent job of keeping control when Juice rocks on his haunches and leans in more._ _

__He squeezes the man's shoulder to get his attention and it gets Juice to open his eye for the first time. Chibs stares into the endless dark depths of them until they blink and focus. "Are you sure?"_ _

__Juice pulls off again, mouth never quite leaving the head, showering it with kisses and jabbing little licks of the underside like it will kill him to separate._ _

__"Yes," he slurs. "Baby, please. Yes." He paws at Chibs' forearms like a drowning man looking for a straw to get to the surface, and with his own vision going pulsating red at the edges Chibs is sure it's going to kill them both if he objects._ _

__He takes Juice's head in his hands, firm on the back of it, gentle on his cheek, and pushes inside along the tongue and slowly, slowly down his throat._ _

__Sparks explode in the bottom of his stomach as wetness slides down his balls in thick rivulets, endlessly. Juice's nostrils flare up as his face explodes -- it's the tears, the snot, the saliva -- and his throat works tirelessly, contracting enough to make Chibs groan but not hard enough to push him out._ _

__He cradles the man's face, leather against skin, wiping the mess from under his eyes and nose. It feels like he holds Juice suspended above the ground by the skull alone and the rest of his body is hanging in the air perfectly passive and still, shoulders relaxed and fingers interlaced despite the loud, aggressive act his face is engaged in._ _

__Chibs comes down his throat -- the muscles contract and milk him until he is done. He pulls out and Juice just deflates then, doubling over with wet gasps and a rusty coughing fit, a puddle of a man on the bathroom floor._ _

__Chibs leans against the sink to catch his breath, too, until his head clears and his lungs start buzzing with tension. Then he comes to it with Juice still down there, still working through small coughs and gulps, moving closer and hugging his leg._ _

__"Give me a moment, it's fine," Juice mumbles nuzzling his inner thigh until his face is dry and then just because._ _

__Chibs hums leaning more comfortably against the porcelain in case he needs to dig in and stay like this all night. If the man finds himself in a contemplative mood with another man's balls literally resting on his forehead, he's won't be the one to judge. Given it's his balls and all._ _

__He pushes his fingers through the thick hair at the back of Juice's head. The length of it is at a perfect point between spiky and wavy meaning the man will cut it soon so it's a perfect moment to let his hand flow through, massaging the scalp to speed up whatever is whirling through the skull underneath._ _

__Minutes go by, then they start to drag. Then Chibs' hipbone chimes in to remind him he's not twenty to be this still for this long. He looks down at the man at his feet, looking so small and drawn in, and the shape of him slices Chibs' heart open so the overwhelming warmth flows until his ribcage is full with it. But the dull ache from that cut makes him pull Juice's hand to get him up._ _

__"That's not your place, boy," he says to the top of Juice's head._ _

__The place he's been put into by a long line of dickheads Chibs dreams to encounter in an intimate setting. The place with the hard tile under his knees, the passive hands locked together on his thighs and the face yanked up to be used until it's bruised is the one that he reverts to very easily. But its familiarity doesn't mean it's where he belongs._ _

__"...what?" Juice looks like he's fallen asleep down there and his swollen mouth is getting in the way of the words._ _

__"Get up."_ _

__Juice crawls up his leg obediently, then his torso until he hooks his arms around his shoulders. His dick is so hot and hard between them it feels like it's going to burn a hole in Chibs' flesh._ _

__Chibs walks the man into the cold wall surprised his searing skin doesn't hiss at the contact and presses their mouths together. For a heartbreaking moment, Juice tries to turn his head away out of habit. It's all open lips on lips and the airy gasps between them until it gets to his brain that Chibs means to kiss the mouth he's just fucked. That's the plan._ _

__Then Juice goes completely boneless with the wall behind and the knee between his legs keeping him up as their tongues slide against each other. The combined taste is obscene but that's the magic of it._ _

__"You're such a sick fuck," Juice chuckles rubbing the sweat off his forehead against Chibs' shoulder. "Makes me hard, you know that."_ _

__Speaking of which, Chibs reaches down to blindly unzip and take him out of his jeans and pushes his knee higher against the balls to get a point across._ _

__"Come on, get going."_ _

__Juice whines at the feeling of leather against his oversensitized flesh but stays put, eyes darting between Chibs' face and his own dick._ _

__"I'm gonna stain them all over," he whispers in a righteous horror. "Gonna get it all over the hems and the stitches, don't be stupid."_ _

__"And I'm gonna wipe it off. And then I'm gonna wear them and if the stains remain and Tig asks if that's your jizz all over me, I'll say it's exactly what it is."_ _

__Juice's skeptical expression doesn't really catch up with his pelvis as it pushes off the wall suddenly and rams forward, his dick sliding against the leather as he fucks Chibs' leg groaning like a wild animal with his claws in Chibs' shoulders and his teeth in his neck._ _

__The other man talks to him like he's a human still, telling him he's a good, good boy, the best there was and will be._ _

__He leaves the stains up to the neckline in the end -- it's bloody impressive -- and Chibs has to forcefully hold the man's hips down when he starts to cry out softly with how oversensitive he is but still can't stop the convulsive thrusting._ _

__They stay upright for some time. Chibs presses his mouth against the pulse point just below the ear and waits for it to slow down until he can trust Juice's legs enough to remove his own from between them._ _

__When Juice passes out beside him, showered and naked, conscious just enough to throw a blanket across his legs, he puts a hand on the younger man's thigh in a familiar gesture. The muscles of it are still jumping a little and he smoothes them over in long strokes from the knee to the buttock and back._ _

__The tension goes away little by little and when he's done with taming his lover's neurotic flesh he lies down beside him, right where his place is._ _


End file.
